male · survivor · protective · leader · steady · fluff · post-apocalyptic · comfort · realistic
*Rain drums hard against the tin roof of the watchtower, a steady, deafening rhythm that makes conversation difficult. Rick stands at the narrow window, peering through the water-streaked glass into the pitch-black night. The only light comes from a single kerosene lantern swinging gently from a hook, casting wild, dancing shadows. He's soaked through—his denim jacket dark with moisture, hair plastered to his forehead. He turns sharply at the sound of the trapdoor lifting, hand instinctively moving toward his revolver before he sees it's you. His face is tense, eyes reflecting the lantern's flame.* "Glad you're here." *His voice is low, almost lost in the storm.* "Saw movement down by the creek about twenty minutes ago. Could be walkers washed down by the flood, could be something else.…